


Number One

by ziegler



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash February, Idol x Fan AU, Marihilda, Meet and Greets, Romance, Sex, Smut, Yuri, and shamir is her manager, marianne is the obsessive fan and hilda is the idol of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziegler/pseuds/ziegler
Summary: Hilda Valentine Goneril is the biggest idol across all Fodlan. Naturally, Marianne is her biggest fan; from posters to pre-ordered CDs, she's always first in line. When the two come face to face, neither woman is going to let the other slip away; and both of them give each other the night of their dreams.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 17
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone and happy femslash february! :3 i wrote this a few days ago, but i actually just launched a kickstarter for an 18+ yuri visual novel...so what better way to celebrate it than with something entirely self indulgent and explicit?
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Marianne had _always_ been a big fan of Hilda Valentine Goneril.

From her songs and her effervescent ways on stage, to the glimmers of light in her beautiful eyes that shone just like the stage itself; she was an all-encapsulating experience, and that was something that everybody across the land seemed to agree on. Hilda Valentine Goneril was a _star_. A _worthy_ star, at that. Hilda had a brilliant light emanating from her, unlike any other that had came before or after. Marianne, like most that saw Hilda for themselves, was completely in love.

The reasons were endless as to why. All of the ways that Hilda moved to her songs, the interactions she had with her fans that were once-in-a-lifetime opportunities...even in the candid photographs that paparazzi seemed to sneak of her, she was perfect. Marianne had lost count of the amount of times she'd tracked down merchandise that nobody else had, just to look at Hilda's face on it; or the amount of times she'd gotten into a mudslinging war online over somebody trying to besmirch Hilda's good name. Luckily, she'd always had the backing of the entire army of Hilda's fans, but it didn't stop making her infuriated every time she saw it. How dare somebody try and talk about the light of her life that way, even if that light was too blinding to ever truly get close to. 

For Marianne, as she continued laying with her headphones over her ears, sprawled out on the light sheets of her bedding and staring out of the open window through the summer breeze, it was just another night. Another sun, another moon. Another day with little to no meaning inside of it besides Hilda Valentine Goneril, and in a way, the comfort of having nobody else around her was something she loved and hated all at the same time.

The breeze was cooling against her hot skin. She'd considered going out to buy some more food for her already barren looking refrigerator; only to be turned back around at the door by her sheer lack of interest in anything other than remaining cool and indulging in her fantasies. Her fan had stopped working, and whilst it was fantastic when it actually came on, her air conditioning had never been all that reliable to begin with. Stepping outside now would just be cruel.

It had been a particularly unforgiving August day at large. With a blaring sunlight outside for the majority of the day, the roads beneath Marianne's open apartment window now wafted up their accumulated blasts of heat throughout the night. With the stench of hot tarmac and past crowds radiating upwards into the heavens, the only thing that Marianne could really even be bothered to do was to stick on Hilda's latest album on repeat, and lay there looking up at the stars in the clear night from her window.

Over the past few days, Marianne had only gone out once, and that was to buy her pre-ordered copy of Hilda's latest album, _Free Bullet_. Marianne didn't work. She didn't have to. Her father was wealthy enough to keep all of his children afloat, let alone her extended family. And she remembered then how it had been so worth it to _actually_ venture outside, to push past the irritating hordes of crowds excitedly in a gaggle, cooing outside the record shop. Her only friends – and people she even kept in contact with, really – all resided in her fanclub to do with Hilda, and even then, she didn't really know who they _were_. Just their screen names. Perhaps they were at the same store with her after all.

But Marianne had been first in line. She had pushed her way to the front if it was the last thing she was going to do. She knew that with each album came the small, tiny chance of meeting Hilda for herself, and that meant that she was going to do whatever it damn well took to get to the head of the line.

Inside each album came a different, unique raffle ticket, and with those tickets came a special number. If the number was announced as a winner, then that would lead to one of Hilda Valentine Goneril's fanmeets. Needless to say, Marianne had bought up half of the stock with her pocketed fortune. She'd been saving her father's cheques for this moment. She was determined to give herself the best possible chance of meeting the woman of her dreams as she could.

“I wonder where you are right now...” She mumbled to herself, resting her forearm lazily on her now cooling forehead as she thought of that day. 

Despite the comforts of solitude, the nights like these were always the most crushing without another person at her side. It was...depressing.

Marianne longed for companionship. She longed for someone – namely, Hilda Valentine Goneril – to lay there with her in her arms, cradling her as she allowed Marianne to kiss gently at her collarbone, to shower her in all the affection she was so desperate to convey, and for Hilda to just let her look up at her with a starstruck, lovelorn expression, written into the colours of her eyes with a language that would only belonged to herself and Hilda. Oh, what bliss that would be.

With her headphones still firmly over her ears, Marianne felt her heart thud whenever she heard Hilda's voice begin. She always felt a _little_ stupid over it, at least to begin with; but then she would begin placing her hands over her heart in a giddy clasp, and Hilda's voice singing to every part of her body almost felt like it was too good to be true. Her high notes kissed her ears, whilst her lower notes kissed her stomach, and any interchangeable combination of harmonies sent shivers of delight through Marianne's bones.

It didn't matter what the song was. It didn't matter how many times she listened to it. Hilda's charms never grew tiring.

Marianne found her soul soothed as her eyes grew heavy, and the smile on her face began to spread contentedly over her pale cheeks. Her hands rest calmly over the area of her heart; clasping down on it ever so slightly as she listened to Hilda's chorus; and as the gentle night winds began to blow in through her apartment window all over again, it felt like a moment she never wanted to end.

“Hilda...” she whispered to herself with a smiling shiver, and felt the girlish blush spread on her cheeks. Having Hilda's voice in her ear like this felt like such a personal connection between the two of them. Her intimate notes, her low little hums and ad-libs that she added into the backing tracks; Marianne already knew them all. She might even go as far as to say she knew the songs _almost_ as well as Hilda.

Shuffling around on her bed carefully, Marianne felt the heat getting to her throat just a little. She wanted a drink.

Leaning over in the slightly illuminated, ambient dark, she grabbed her tall glass off of the bedside table. Pressing the small, pink straw to her lips, she noticed the small stack of tickets next to the glass's tropical coaster; the illustrious pile of raffle tickets from Hilda's latest album. That was what she had worked so hard to push to the front of the queue for; the tickets that had given her the bruises on her back and the blemishes along the top of her foot, where people had haphazardly trodden all over them as she purchased the first album that store in particular had to offer. She'd do anything for Hilda. _Anything_. Anything more than anyone else would, anyway.

Could this really be the chance to meet her? Marianne certainly hoped so.

Sipping up the remainder of the liquid until the sound of a noisy slurping could be heard through the straw, Marianne felt her physical thirst quenched. Her emotional thirst, full of desire and lust for the woman she thought of through so much of her day, however, was at full throttle.

Marianne never invited people from the fanclub to her apartment. They all seemed as though they knew each other; but for Marianne, that was always a big no. Not a social butterfly as it was, there was no way she would _ever_ let anyone see inside her place. This was _her_ sanctuary; hers and Hilda's, if she ever wanted it to be, where Marianne von Edmund could thoroughly worship the woman that had given her life so much meaning.

Her bed was a temple; and now the sight of a place where she had – only once, mind you – actually found somebody online in an advertisement listing that looked like Hilda, and paid them to pretend that they _were_ for a little while. Marianne didn't get off all that much, though. The voice just wasn't _right_. The curves of her body just weren't... _right_. The only thing the girl had managed to get similar was the pink of her hair, but even then, Marianne wasn't getting much pleasure from the sexual encounter herself.

She'd been surrounded by enough posters of Hilda to know just how she'd feel if she was really being touched by her. Marianne had tried that out on her own more than enough times, and with extremely successful results.

Hiring a lookalike; it just wasn't _her_. And the time to meet Hilda Valentine Goneril for herself – despite that Marianne didn't know it at all, at that time – was fast approaching.

The following morning after the hot sun's temporary disappearance, Marianne knew that the raffle tickets were going to be announced today on Hilda's official website. She went across all of Fodlan doing fanmeets; she was so generous, Marianne thought, but a small – no, a large part of her - was jealous of that. She wanted Hilda all to herself. She knew somehow, in her heart, that Hilda was supposed to be hers. She just _knew_ it. She couldn't explain it. It just was the way it was supposed to be.

Clutching her stack of raffle tickets tightly in her hand, she switched on the computer.

With a squeak of her chair as she sat down and the whirring of the engine as it began to boot up, Marianne felt the nervous pit of anxiety open up inside her stomach. Was this the ticket? No, was it this one? If it was, how would she get in if she lost it? What if none of them were winners at all, and she had to wait for another album release for this opportunity? Well, surely there'd be people online selling them somewhere...even if she'd never found one before now, she had the money...right?

A million thoughts ran through Marianne's mind in quick succession as she sat before the computer. The mouse clicks echoed; the tapping of the keyboard rung out like church bells with volume, rudely and loudly cutting through the stressed tension of the apartment. Marianne's mouth was dry, and her eyes were frantic as she sat at the computer, desperately scouring the webpage for a timer.

Marianne gasped. The list was out.

Her eyes frantically scanned the page, and then scanned the pile of tickets now spreading out over her keyboard.

None of them were winners - all but one that she had yet to check.

“Number 57...” Marianne mumbled to herself in a panic. “Number 57...come on...!”

Her eyes darted all over the page. Until...

NUMBER 57 - **WINNER**

Marianne was dumbfounded to the point of silence for a number of minutes; staring so hard at the screen that the word and number burned into her retinas temporarily; before a loud gasp came from her lips, and a leap out of her chair followed.

“...M...My number...!”

She _was_ going to meet Hilda Valentine Goneril!

The fanmeet was in two days time, and throughout the two days that followed the news, Marianne's days were a blur.

A haze of over-excitement, paranoia, longing and stress, everything had to be perfect. _She_ had to be perfect, in the presence of somebody as beautiful inside and out as Hilda.

She knew the ins and outs of fanmeetings. She'd studied them meticulously, thinking all about the things that could happen if she got longer than two minutes with the woman that was clearly supposed to be hers. The things she'd say; the things she'd _do_...the ways she'd love for Hilda to tell her that it was okay, she _could_ put her hands there, or she could put her lips on her neck for as long as she wanted. It was okay. She _was_ hers, after all. Marianne's eyes swirled with delirium and ecstasy at the thought of having Hilda in such a capacity.

The days really did pass in a frantic, fraught blur. Nobody else in the fanclub Marianne was in had won, and she thoroughly enjoyed the bragging rights of getting to meet Hilda Valentine Goneril, and had found a delicious evil in promising to tell Hilda everything her so-called friends wanted her to say to Hilda on their behalf.

Marianne had laughed at the notion of passing on their good wishes. If they wanted to praise Hilda, they should do it in their own time. She won this right to be in her presence, fair and square.

The morning of the fanmeeting came, and Marianne was so nervous that she almost bottled the idea of leaving her house altogether. Her hands were trembling, and the gift she had rushed out to buy Hilda resided shakily inside her dark purse. A silver bracelet, adorned in all of the charms Hilda had mentioned she liked, on episode two-hundred and one of IdolFact. A small, red heart; a golden star; and of course, a silver bullet. Hilda had mentioned how fascinating she found werewolves, and that was the reason why she loved the idea of a silver bullet having such mystical power.

Flying out of her apartment and opting to take the stairs rather than the elevator, Marianne rushed outside into the cool morning air. The sun hadn't come out fully yet into the typically busy city's sidewalks; the shade of the morning was still reigning champion on the surface of everybody's skin below. Her nimble feet carried her through the streets and towards the station; and, after hurrying as fast as she could from the ticket booth, Marianne was soon boarding the train that led to the stadium where Hilda Valentine Goneril was doing her meeting.

The train was empty; was she hours early? It didn't matter. There was no way she could sleep, knowing that Hilda was even remotely in the same vicinity as her. Today was going to be a day that would be burned into her mind forever; and hopefully Hilda's, too.

Everything seemed to move in a simultaneously slow and fast motion, all at once. Marianne felt as though the train journey to the stadium had taken both a lifetime and a millisecond.

“Now stopping at Golden Deer Stadium. Please mind the gap.”

Marianne did not mind the gap, but instead flew over it as she raced down the stairs, and weaved in such a way through the crowds with a determined disposition that it impressed even her to make it in one piece.

Racing outside to the stadium, Marianne stopped for breath in the queue that lined up before her. There were excitable gaggles of girls, hopelessly inadequate security team members, and a haphazardly organized set of rope barriers, used in a futile attempt to keep all of Hilda's fans in line. Marianne stood up straight after getting her breath back, and felt the possessive scowl clamoring into her tired eyes.

“Each person gets two minutes with Hilda,” one of the gruff security guards said, folding his arms over his broad chest. “So please wait in an orderly fashion until your turn.”

Marianne wasn't surprised. She had done so much research on these kinds of events that to actually be stood at one almost felt surreal.

“Wow! You got a ticket too, huh?!” An excitable girl before her exclaimed, clutching her ticket with her friend at her side. “I'm sooo excited!”

“Yeah! Hilda's music is so good! And I've heard she's such a sweetheart at these events, too!” The stranger's friend chipped in.

Marianne blinked awkwardly.

“What?! Um, oh...I...ah, yes...”

The two girls giggled excitedly, unbothered by Marianne's floundering, and turned back towards the stadium. The queue was getting gradually and gradually shorter as Marianne continued forwards, and she was immensely glad she had set off so early every time she turned to look behind her. The queue behind was only growing in length. At least this way, she was guaranteed to get Hilda Valentine Goneril at her prime.

The time had come. She had made it to the front of the line.

“Ticket, please.”

Shakily handing the security guard her ticket, he inspected it once over, and ticked off a small number on the clipboard before him. He nodded at Marianne, and then offered a second nod towards a closed door before her.

“She's through there,” he said plainly. “Remember, two minutes. No more, no less.”

Marianne nodded eagerly, and felt as though her head was dizzy with nerves.

Everything in her life had been accumulating towards this moment. Hilda Valentine Goneril was behind that door. Not the posters Marianne so often looked at with her hands beneath her clothing. Not the limited editing merchandise she so often bartered for and became cut-throat over. Not the fantasy of Hilda; but the real article.

Marianne took a deep breath, and; placing her trembling hands on the silver doorknobs before her, pushed open the large doors, and was greeted with a sight that almost made her fall over.

“Oh!” A certain someone said excitedly, and hopped up from her seat. “You must be...Number 57, right? It's sooo nice to finally meet you! Thank you so much for all your support of me to get here!”

Rushing out from behind the table, the double doors behind Marianne closed with a loud slam, and Hilda Valentine Goneril ran up; throwing her arms around Marianne's shoulders. An unimpressed looking woman from behind the desk adjusted her glasses, and, with her arms folded, restrained the desire to shout at the idol Marianne assumed she must have managed.

“Hilda, I really don't think -”

“Oh, stop being such a stuffy busybody, Shamir! Let me greet my fans just how I want to, okay?”

That moment alone would have carried Marianne von Edmund for the rest of her life.

Her _perfume_. The sensation of her hair brushing ever so slightly against Marianne's lips as she held her in her arms. Marianne's entire body was rigid with adoration and lust.

“What's your name, sweetheart?” Hilda asked with a bubbly tone of voice, taking Marianne by the hand, and leading her back to the seat that faced her own. Marianne opened her mouth, but her mind went blank. Hilda giggled. “You're cute, aren't you? Wow, I just love your hair colour!”

Marianne blushed. Her mind raced just as fast as her heart.

“Thank you...!” she finally managed to stammer out, and Hilda's expression changed, once she heard Marianne's voice. “U-Um...my name is Marianne...Marianne von Edmund. I'm so happy to...to be here, today...!”

As though a switch had been flicked, Hilda's demeanor shifted.

Her expression shifted from presenting a cordial, excitable superiority to a blushing, somewhat intrigued and surprisingly attracted equal. Marianne didn't realize that, not at first; but as she sat down facing Hilda Valentine Goneril for the first time in her life, she noticed that her expression did seem a little different with her than it did with all the other fans.

She looked... _giddy_. She looked excited, as though Marianne being there really had been the best thing to happen to her in a very long time, and at first, Marianne thought she was just seeing things.

“So?” Hilda began, resting her head on her hands as she looked up at Marianne, and smiled in such a way that if looks could kill from their beauty alone, Marianne was sure she'd be dead by now. “Tell me about yourself, Marianne! What kinds of things do you like to do in your spare time? What's your star sign? I wanna know it all! And of course, any questions you have to ask about me, too!”

Marianne blushed profusely.

_Hilda Valentine Goneril wants to know about me?_ She thought to herself, before trying to desperately steady her thudding heart.

Hilda was a picture of beauty today; but wasn't she always? Sat before Marianne in a black halter top with slightly exposed cleavage at the front, a set of golden earrings that matched with an equally golden necklace, and her hair shoved up meticulously into a high ponytail, Marianne wasn't sure what part of her to admire first.

The first point was that she smelled divine. Her perfume was remarkable; the scent of a successful, beautiful woman wafted through the air, and Marianne wanted to bottle it up and keep it all to herself. The second point was her hands. Marianne felt her entire body almost burst into flames when Hilda took her hands in her own. God, her hands were _so_ soft and smooth, and they were holding Marianne's own with such a delicate attention that Marianne felt as though it was almost too intimate for anyone else to see.

Marianne, eventually and mostly through babbling, told Hilda what she wanted to know. All about her hobbies – that weren't to do with being rampantly obsessed with her, naturally – and her star sign.

“Oh wow! You're a Sagittarius? You're one of my most compatible signs, as an Aquarius! How lucky for me!”

Marianne felt the room spin. Hilda giggled.

_Now would be the perfect time to give her my gift..._

“U-Um...”

Reaching into her bag, the manager woman and the several security agents all subtly got themselves ready. Hilda sighed.

“Come on, you guys...” she said with a groan as Marianne awkwardly fished out a small, navy box from her bag. “Oh!”

“This is for...for you...” Marianne said; a wry, adoring smile coming across her blushing face. “I hope you like it...”

Delicately adorned with a tiny, golden ribbon, Hilda looked up at Marianne hopefully, as though she hadn't been expecting a gift from this woman that was clearly in love with her; and, pulling at the edges, she opened the box to find a bracelet that made her eyes widen in amazement. 

“Marianne...!” She said with a gasp, and her mouth hung open as she held the bracelet delicately in her hands. “It's absolutely beautiful...thank you so much! Wow...you even included so many of my favorite things, hm?"

Marianne blushed, and wrung her hands together as she looked away from the woman of her dreams.

“Y-You're welcome...”

“Say,” Hilda interjected quickly, and Marianne felt a gasp of her own restrained as Hilda's hands slammed down on her own. The bracelet – _her_ bracelet, that she had bought for Hilda's body only – had been quickly clasped onto her wrist, and Marianne felt the judder of her heart ring out along with the tiny clinking of the charms she had carefully picked out against the chain. “I shouldn't really be asking this, but...want to come back to my hotel room after this?"

Marianne's looking down at the ground quickly shifted up to a gaze into Hilda's eyes; and the sight that she saw entirely caught her off guard.

"You're cute," Hilda charmed with a smile, and Marianne felt her head about to explode. “So? How about it?”

Hearing Hilda ask with haste, Marianne felt the unquenchable ache between her legs growing tenfold.

"Me?!"

“I'd love to get to know a girl like you better, Marianne.”

“W-Why?” Marianne blurted out. She wasn't sure why she asked. Hilda just laughed in response.

“ _Why?_ Well...” she retorted. “Because you seem as unusual as you look...and I like girls that give me a run for my money in the bedroom.”

Marianne could not believe it. Was she dreaming? No matter how she pinched at her arms, it wasn't waking her up. She wasn't dreaming. 

The look in Hilda's eyes was a cocktail mixture of alarming, alluring, and exciting all at once. Suddenly, all of the passion in all of her songs made so much _sense_. All of the intensity, all of the _longing_. All of the resounding emotions that Marianne felt sing deep within her heart. She was right. Hilda was supposed to be hers, after all.

_This_ was the kind of woman she was.

“Hilda...!” Marianne said with a tremble in her voice. Her lips curved into a shaky, disbelieving smile, and her hands felt as though they didn't want to let Hilda go. “Y...Yes...yes, I'll be there...!”

“Good...” Hilda said with a low chuckle, and, slipping one hand into her pocket, pulled out a key as subtly as she could; wrapping it inside Marianne's palm, she curled her fingers around it under Hilda's touch, and began tightly clasping the key in the centre. “Then I'll see you there! It's the Hresvelg Hotel, just a couple of miles away from this stadium. Make sure you're there at seven, okay? Shamir will let you in if you show her this key. We can have a lot of fun...I'd love to pay you back for this bracelet in full, Marianne. What a thoughtful gift to bring to me.”

“Your two minutes is almost up, ma'am.” The security guard called from the entrance; his voice a brash, loud intrusion into the euphoric bubble Marianne found herself in. “Please finish your conversation and proceed towards the exit.”

“I'll be there,” Marianne replied with a sense of blushing urgency. “I promise, I'll be there, no matter what!”

“Good girl,” Hilda replied bluntly with a wink and a smile that sent another barrage of arrows through Marianne's fluttering heart. “See you later, then!”

With an affectionate wiggle of her slender fingers, Hilda bid Marianne an excited goodbye for the time being; and, as she stumbled out of the chair and away from her beloved idol, Marianne knew that the next few hours of waiting were going to be the worst she'd ever endure. 

How could she get through them in one piece, knowing Hilda Valentine Goneril was waiting for her?


	2. Chapter 2

Pushing open the heavy doors that separated her fantasy from the outside world, the hinges squeaked sharply, and Marianne found her eyes squinting at the bright sunlight as she stumbled outside. The cars whooshed by her on the roads ahead; the noise of the budding crowd on the other side of the stadium's entrance growing in size, more and more with each moment. But Marianne didn't process any of the noises. She didn't process any of the sensation of the cool winds against her face in the burning sun.

There was only one thought running through her mind. 

_Hilda Valentine Goneril wants to sleep with me..._

Marianne's hands clutched at her head as she felt her eyes grow wide with a manic disbelief. All of her fantasies could become reality in just a matter of _hours_. Hilda Valentine Goneril's body would be in her hands; her lips would be against her own.

But Marianne knew she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't terrified. Was she really prepared for something like this?

Marianne spent the next four hours in a pure, unrestrained mixture of hysteria, lust, haste and desperation. Hysteria and lust over the thoughts of what would be happening in just a few hours, haste over rushing to the shopping mall to buy things to freshen up her appearance even more; and desperation for the time to just move onwards already. The hands on every clock seemed like they had slowed down to a snail's pace. The small numbers on Marianne's phone almost seemed as though they were moving backwards.

But eventually, seven o'clock arrived; and Marianne von Edmund was stood outside the Hresvelg Hotel with Hilda's key firmly in her hand. So firmly, in fact, that the indent of the key was cutting a little into her skin, and had she held it any firmer or any more excitedly, it probably would have pierced it.

The summer night was in full bloom. Looking up at the peach-tinted sky above, Marianne found a little moment of calm in the storm. She took in three deep breaths in a desperate attempt to stay calm and centered. She'd been up to the shopping mall today, splashed out on an even nicer outfit than the one she had already met Hilda in; it cost her a small fortune, but she wanted to look...well, as beautiful as Hilda deserved, really. Marianne wasn't sure she was _ever_ truly worthy to be in Hilda's presence, but in this incredibly expensive black dress was the closest she'd ever consider herself to come.

Marianne's calm and centered attempts were quickly thrown back into a technicolor frenzy when she saw a black car turning the corner quickly. It didn't take a genius to work out who was in the overpriced vehicle whizzing past her. Marianne was surprised as she suddenly felt a start to look around herself; reminded by the sight of the car that she was, ultimately, just a super-fan, there were no other fans here waiting. Nobody had clocked on to the fact Hilda Valentine Goneril was here, nor had the information been leaked...or at least, that was what Marianne thought.

As the car reversed and pulled up before her, Marianne's mouth grew dry. Her head began to spin.

Her heart raced as the back window of the car began to descend, and inside through the tiny gap, a set of sharp pink eyes revealed themselves to her. With immaculate make-up around her eyes and a sultry look in her gaze, it was no stranger that resided before Marianne.

“So,” Hilda asked with a cheeky grin, “wanna hop in?”

The door popped open. Marianne blinked.

“B-But your – your hotel...?”

“Oh, I lied about that.” Hilda laughed to herself. “All the security guards were listening! I couldn't have that.”

“We're staying at the Silque Hotel,” Shamir said from the front seat, behind a panel of opaque glass that separated the driver from the passenger. Marianne could barely hear her through the glass, and felt herself gasp as Hilda excitedly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in.

This was the beginning of the best night of Marianne von Edmund's life.

The car door slammed behind her. The back of the car was surprisingly roomy, given the deceptive outside seeming like it was just a simple four-seater; but inside, there was enough room to lay down, and that was something Hilda already took full advantage of.

“Come here...” Hilda whispered to Marianne, who felt her mind swirling around in a pool as Hilda pulled her body quickly on top of her without protest. Marianne did her best to not fall flat on her face with giddiness. “You look beautiful in that dress...”

The sensation of Hilda's lips were enough to make Marianne feel as though her legs were dying to cross themselves, just to stop the ache between them. Her breasts felt tender with anticipation beneath her dress – a purchase that Hilda had now already given full validation to – and, as Hilda's fingertips made their way up into the back of Marianne's messy blue hair, both women felt themselves melting into the other.

Marianne's nerves got the better of her, at first. Hilda was kissing at her neck with gentle, hungry kisses in such a way that Marianne couldn't stop herself from letting out a moan or two. Hilda chuckled in satisfaction, running her hands along Marianne's back over the soft material, and hitched her dress up slightly as she hovered over Hilda's body.

“Ah...!”

“Kiss me.”

Marianne did as she was told.

With a quick nod as she lingered above Hilda's body, her lips kissed at her beloved idol's own. She couldn't believe this was happening; her lips and tongue desperately tried to compose themselves as they grazed Hilda's own with a restrained passion. Everything in her body was _screaming_ at her to let loose, to take Hilda thoroughly; the taste of her, the sensation of her kisses, her lovesick moans from anywhere Marianne would touch. But the more composed side of Marianne didn't want to blow it. Not _yet_.

She'd fantasized about this far too much to let this opportunity slip away now.

But with Hilda's perfume encapsulating her every move, and her lips kissing so firmly at her own as they moved along, wrapped up in each other's arms in a fit of passion on the car's spacious floor, Marianne knew it was just a matter of time before she cracked.

Making out with Hilda Valentine Goneril still felt like she was dreaming, but Marianne knew she wasn't. Hilda pulled her up onto the seats with her; leaning against her chest as Marianne sat with her back to the door, Hilda was forceful with her kisses. She craved affection; _longed_ for it, from this behavior; and Marianne didn't mind a bit. In fact, it was quite the opposite. She could feel in between her legs telling her that.

Hilda's body was so warm. Marianne had forgotten how good it felt to actually have another woman on top of her, ever since the failed attempt at hiring an impersonator from that stupid online listing. Her breasts were so full; so soft; and Hilda was hanging off of Marianne's neck as she continued pressing up against her. Marianne was losing the battle to restrain herself, and they weren't even at the hotel yet.

As though she could read Marianne's mind, Hilda reluctantly tore her lips away from Marianne's own; rubbing them together before she gasped for breath, and leant back as she began to straddle Marianne's lap.

“Shamir, how long 'til the hotel?” She asked with a giggle in her voice. Marianne felt as though she was going to lose her mind with the sight of Hilda's smudged lipstick. She knew it'd be all over her lips, too.

“Five minutes.”

“Okay...” Hilda said with a smile, turning back to Marianne, and placing her hands either side of her face. “We've got some more time to kill before we can do _exactly_ what we want, haven't we?”

Marianne's composure was fading. She didn't speak. Her arms wrapped themselves around Hilda's waist, aggressively and wordlessly, and Hilda giggled.

“Oh, my! Mm...” Hilda said, and her eyes lit up with a hungry look inside of them; as though she wanted to devour Marianne. Grabbing at her face gently, she stroked her cheek with her thumbs as Marianne held her, here on her lap, and Marianne felt herself instantly hornier from the sight. “You know, you're everything I thought you'd be, Marianne. I love girls that go nuts for me.”

Marianne blushed. Her face was mere centimeters away from Hilda's own as they sat like this. The sight of her silver bracelet; the gift she'd given in what felt like such a far off dream, now; glinted under the slight illumination of the car's interior lights. Hilda slipped her tongue back into Marianne's mouth before she could give it much thought.

Swirling her tongue around Marianne's own, Marianne could hardly stand it. Her legs twitched with how badly she wanted Hilda to touch her, to rub in between her thighs, something, _anything_ that would alleviate the pressure she was feeling, and from the way Hilda began to grind a little on her thigh, Marianne could tell she felt the same.

“A-ah...fuck...” Marianne whispered to herself in between the gasps for breath. Hilda felt delighted.

“We're here,” a different voice came from the front. Eventually, Marianne recognized it as Shamir's. Hilda didn't bother to stop, and instead clasped her thighs around Marianne's waist a little harder as they made out in the back seat. Shamir rolled her eyes. “Come on. There's a big bed in there waiting for you instead of the back of this car.”

“Good point,” Hilda said with a girlish giggle beneath her voice. “Do you have a hooded top? You know, for Marianne?”

“Oh, right...” Shamir said, opening the car door, and Marianne began to realize she hadn't actually looked around at just where they were.

The sounds of the outside world were back; and this time, they were much more of what Marianne had been expecting at the Hresvelg Hotel.

“Ugh,” Hilda grumbled. “Honestly, I left the fanmeeting early, and they still came here...how'd they even find out?”

“You left early?”

“Of course I did! I wanted to spend some more time with you, you know?”

_Am I really sure I'm not dreaming?_

Shamir was the first one to step outside, and as she knocked on the side door, she opened it quickly and handed Marianne a black hooded top.

“Put this on,” Shamir whispered. “We don't want the press getting wind of you.”

“The press are here?"

“No, but if they see you with her and your lipstick all smudged...” Shamir replied, disgruntled. “Just keep your head down and make a beeline for the hotel room. I'll check us in.”

Hilda nodded; and, as one high heel clicked against the cement pavement, she took Marianne by the wrist, and raced towards the hotel entrance and cut through the screams of delighted fans.

“We love you, Hilda!”

_Not as much as me._

“Hilda, look, over here!”

_She's looking only at me now._

“I can't believe it's really her! Oh, I hope I get to meet her someday!”

_Not if I have anything to say about it._

Hilda's heels clicked against the hard concrete of the sidewalk as she ran; keeping her head down and away from any cameras as best she could. Her location had definitely been found out; whether it had been leaked or somebody had just happened to overhear, she could never be sure. But Marianne; keeping her hood firmly over her head as she ran; only found that her jealousy was mounting. This was the life of being with an idol. This was what it would truly mean to be with Hilda Valentine Goneril. The constant competitors, the insincere adoration; Marianne already hated them all.

“This way,” Hilda whispered urgently, pulling Marianne into the spinning glass door before the hotel's entrance. She didn't stop to acknowledge the doorman, nor did she say hello to the greeting staff, or the people at the counter. Marianne didn't care about their feelings, either. Both of them only had _one_ thing on their mind.

The golden decor of the hotel was beautiful. As soon as they got inside, it was a safe haven where no photography was allowed at all. Hilda tore off Marianne's hooded top, swinging on the arm that she kept her own arms wrapped around, and rest her chin on her shoulder. Her eyes still held that charming, unhinged quality to them that Marianne never knew she had; and that little feature, being something that only Marianne now knew about, only served to further fuel the obsession she had with the pink-haired woman at her side.

“Almost there,” Hilda reassured, pushing open one of the white doors nestled between two plants. “And then we can have some real fun.”

“I'll do anything.”

Hilda stopped in her tracks just as they reached the elevator, and Marianne watched as a sly smile spread across her lips.

“Anything?”

“ _Anything_ ,” Marianne repeated, and finally, Hilda could see that the woman she'd picked up had given in to her own whims. “Please...please, let me...”

Hilda licked her lips in anticipation as Marianne clung to her, and; with a ping of the elevator doors opening, Hilda pulled Marianne inside.

“You really are everything I hoped for, Marianne.”

The elevator ride upwards was not nearly long enough for either woman's liking. Marianne finally gave in to the desire that enveloped her entire body, and allowed herself to not be restrained by such things like 'dignity' and 'self-respect'. Hilda, of course, was more than happy to oblige. Feeling Marianne pulling her thigh up around her waist while they made out in the elevator was more than enough of a confirmation that she'd picked the right woman to sleep with tonight.

The elevator doors opened, and Hilda's fingers coiled themselves around Marianne's wrist, pulling her urgently down the hallway and towards the largest hotel room that this place had to offer. Hilda's hands were trembling with delight, fumbling with the key that she pulled out of her small purse that had been hanging off of her arm almost the whole time; and, slipping it into the lock, she opened the door with a loud noise against the wall it hit upon opening.

“I can't wait to have my hands on you...” Marianne whispered shakily as they walked inside the hotel room. All of her thoughts were going blank the longer she was around Hilda, and Hilda was thoroughly excited at the prospect.

“Oh, trust me...I'm not going to let you take them off of me.”

Kicking the door behind her closed, Hilda locked it firmly; and, throwing her purse onto the chair before her, it wasn't long before she managed to throw herself at the woman eagerly awaiting her on the edge of the bed.

Hilda Valentine Goneril wasn't known for fucking her fans. It wasn't even really something she ever did, save for around the first time she'd debuted, and the excitement and the allure of having all of these people in awe of her was just as enticing as she'd expected. But the allure of that lifestyle faded fast, and her fans became her favorite kinds of people; supportive, warm, and above all else, determined to do whatever it took to protect her. Hilda loved it. _Lived_ for it. What was better than having her own personal army?

And to see somebody like Marianne von Edmund; so clearly obsessed with her from the word go, enough to even remember such minuscule details about her through the gift of this bracelet...

There was no-one more perfect for Hilda than _her_.

Their clothes both came off in a fast-moving pace; thrown into a haphazard bundle that neither woman particularly cared about. Marianne hadn't really taken in the grand ambiance of the hotel room, either - she hadn't really noticed that their bed was huge, king-size and comfortable, nor did the fact that the room itself was even bigger than she had been expecting. There was a mini fridge in the corner; a small bar next to the large, over-sized windows that overlooked the entire city; a bathroom that was big enough to be its own hotel room next to where they were going to sleep; and of course, a wardrobe that also followed suit.

But none of that mattered. Because here, beneath the dim, amber lights of the hotel room and the night sky outside, behind the blinds that covered those over-sized window from the rest of the world, Hilda Valentine Goneril was now beneath her.

Marianne's face scorched. Her hands shook. Hilda became even more turned on at the sight, and grabbed Marianne's wrist to place it on her breast.

“Touch me already,” Hilda asked, grinning so cheekily and brightly that Marianne felt the weight of lust drop onto her head like a ton of bricks, and kissed Hilda's lips as she took in every aspect of her favorite woman.

Her breasts really _were_ so soft. They'd been everything Marianne had dreamed of. No wonder calling in a lookalike just wasn't good enough. The genuine article was something nobody could ever compare to.

Their kisses were messy and uncalculated, just as this entire situation had been. Marianne felt wet between her legs in such a way that she never had before; a way that, if she didn't get stimulation from Hilda's fingertips soon she felt as though she'd literally die; and Hilda, excited by the allure of this sexual encounter with a desperate, hot stranger, took off her lingerie and lay exposed beneath Marianne.

“Ah, I'm so horny...” she whispered under her breath, and Marianne's head spun. “Go down on me for a little while, okay?”

Marianne felt her heart lurch in excitement at the request, and scrambled off of the bed so fast that her knees hit the carpet with a graze to her skin.

Hilda moved forwards towards the edge of the large mattress, and looked down at Marianne as she eagerly remained before her. The light hit her skin in such a way that Marianne had to pinch herself for the seventh time that night just to make sure she really wasn't living in a dream. Hilda's eyes glinted with anticipation as her teeth smiled over her bottom lip, biting it with an undeniable excitement of sexual excitement; and, shuffling forwards, Marianne's arms hoisted Hilda's thighs over her shoulders.

They were warm and heavy, and Hilda responded with an excited, nervous laughter. Marianne kissed along the inner thigh of the woman she idolized. She tasted so _good_. She tasted just as good as she looked; and, unable to wait any longer to fulfill just what Hilda had requested of her, she began spreading her legs apart. Marianne didn't waste any time in doing exactly what she'd fantasized about for years.

Her tongue touched Hilda's clit, and as her mouth began to soften and shape her lips perfectly around Hilda's most sensitive spot, the moan that slipped out of Hilda's lips was enough to make Marianne even dizzier than she already was.

“A-Ah!” Hilda moaned quietly, and leant back a little; threading her fingertips through Marianne's hair as she knelt. “Fuck...!”

Her clit was big. Marianne felt her heart thudding at the thought that Hilda Valentine Goneril was horny over _her_ , and everything that her tongue and her fingertips were doing only furthered that. Her palms rest against the thick, warm skin of the thighs that rest over her shoulders, and her tongue danced along the wetness that resided in between them. Her lips suckled at her clit ever so slightly; first gently, and then with hard, deliberate flicks of the tip of her tongue against it. Hilda shivered in ecstasy.

Marianne dipped her tongue a little lower, and looked up at Hilda as she did so. Licking along the slit where it was the wettest, Marianne could hardly believe – or stand to realize – that she was tasting the person she craved. The very person that she had gotten off over all on her own, the person she could _never_ have imagined actually getting to sleep with; all because she'd taken the initiative to be dedicated enough to buy her a gift she truly loved.

“Aah...” Hilda moaned softly; lulling her head back, and propping herself up on her elbow. One hand still firmly remained threaded through Marianne's hair, stroking the light blue of her scalp as she held her firmly in place. “More...!”

Marianne made deliberate noises of pleasure on her own, and quickened the pace of her tongue. Slipping it in and out of the area she so desperately wanted to slip her fingers into before dragging the tip of her tongue upwards, Hilda found her body trembling with delight. Marianne was so much better than she was expecting. 

Hilda's hips began to twitch as Marianne held her in place with her thighs. Hilda's glimmering eyes closed; squeezing shut with the sensations and tremors that were rushing through her body at the feeling of Marianne's tongue working its magic between her legs. Licking, lapping and moaning against her, Hilda was already reaching a breaking point.

“Fuck...! M-Marianne!”

 _God, hearing her say my name like that..._ Marianne thought to herself. Her cheeks were almost permanently scorched from how horny she'd been this entire time, knelt on the floor beneath the dim lights of this hotel room. Hilda began to gyrate her hips against Marianne, rubbing against her lips gently; before Marianne took Hilda's hips assertively in her hands.

“Oh, shit...” Hilda whispered deliriously. Marianne was determined to make Hilda see stars.

Hilda's hand slipped out from holding onto Marianne's hair in favor of grappling with the sheets at her side. Her moans were increasing in volume, and so was her ego; twitching, twisting, writhing against Marianne's tongue, she clasped her hands at the bedsheets; and, as Marianne's determined tongue stroked just hard enough against the wetness of her lover, Hilda let out a scream of pleasure; and Marianne tasted even more of her against her tongue.

“Fuck...!” Hilda exhaled, her legs trembling and slack over Marianne's shoulders as she leant back; and watched Marianne wiping her mouth free of the mess Hilda had just made against her lips. “Oh, my God...why didn't you tell me you were so _good?_ ”

Marianne blushed, and laughed giddily.

“I...I've been saving all of that,” she confessed, “just for you...”

Crawling back up onto the bed and over Hilda's trembling frame, Marianne kissed Hilda's lips all over again. Sloppy, misplaced kisses from both parties, they both couldn't get enough of each other. Hilda's desperate hands had only grown even more needy in their grasping, and Marianne just wanted to die in the moment of happiness.

“I need you...” Hilda pleaded, grabbing Marianne's face, and kissing her lips frantically in between the words. “I need you all night.”

“Ugh...H-Hilda...”

Marianne and Hilda found themselves making out for what felt like a lifetime between the sheets. Their bodies exposed and candid, both women had committed themselves to this. Whatever this was, neither one of them really knew, other than that it was utterly mind-blowing. Marianne's mind spun. Hilda's body ached for more. Marianne took Hilda's wrist gently in her hand, and, laying with their heads on the pillow, she shoved it underneath the sheets.

“Oho?”

“Pl-please...” Marianne begged. “Please, touch me...I...”

Hilda allowed another cheeky, knowing smile to come across her face, and slipped her tongue into Marianne's mouth wordlessly as her fingertips began to rub at Marianne's clit instead.

Marianne felt an entire shock through her body. Hilda's hands had been all over her by this point; against her breasts, her ass, her thighs, her hair; but in between her legs? Now _that_ was something Marianne von Edmund had become an expert at dreaming of.

Typically, in the midst of a lonely night, Marianne would often find herself surrounded by the posters on her walls. Hilda Valentine Goneril in various poses, various articles of clothing; perhaps even with other bands, if she'd done featuring on their songs, or maybe in advertisement posters, where Marianne had actually gone to great lengths to procure them. But now, this was the real thing. Her eyes swirled with ecstasy, and she bit down on her own wrist to stop herself screaming in delight. Hilda was really touching her.

Her fingertips knew the touch of a woman's body well – Marianne could feel it. Her hands were experienced. This wasn't her first time with a woman in bed. In a way, that made Marianne so envious she could have snapped the neck of whoever got there first; in another, it made her deliriously happy that Hilda wasn't with whoever that was anymore, and instead, was putting her skills of touching women to very good use right now.

Slipping against her clit, Hilda's fingers dipped in and out of Marianne; slipping inside as though she was going to fuck her, before teasing her a little longer. Marianne let out a gasp that suggested it was entirely too much, and Hilda slipped them back out with a chuckle against Marianne's wet, hungry lips.

“You enjoying yourself?”

“Yes...”

“I can't hear you,” Hilda whispered in an octave higher against Marianne's ear. Marianne let out a louder moan.

“God...yes...!”

Hilda quickened the pace. Marianne was wet enough for Hilda to have made her come easily by now. It would have taken less than two minutes, but both women were determined to make it last longer. Hilda pressed her body against Marianne as she touched her, kissing her with a possessive, hot lust that Marianne couldn't bear to think of ever letting go, and allowed herself to feel the best she'd ever felt as she breathed in the woman she adored.

“Hilda...ugh...”

“Say my name for me,” Hilda whispered eagerly. “More...more, okay?”

“Hilda...ah...H-Hilda!”

Marianne wrapped her arms around Hilda's neck. She could feel it. She was about to hit her limit.

“More!” Hilda demanded. “Call my name for me!”

“Hilda! Ah, Hilda! I -”

“Don't hold back,” Hilda whispered, demanding; and, as though that was all the permission she needed, Marianne came with a scream against Hilda's fingertips.

Messy haired and delirious in lust, Marianne's entire body trembled with the aftershock. Her throat felt raspy and sore from how hard she'd been panting and for who knew how long, and her entire body felt overly warm with how much they'd been moving around beneath the sheets. Throwing the duvet off of their bodies, a cool breeze met their delicate skin, and Marianne's eyes were able to feast on the sight of Hilda's perfect shape. Despite her exhaustion, the sight now found herself immediately renewed of her sex drive.

“Fuck me,” Hilda demanded; and that same look in her eyes was back. She wasn't going to give Marianne a break; that much was obvious. As her eyes lingered along the tips of her breasts and up towards her collarbones, Hilda needily shuffled around her body. Her legs rest on Marianne's knees as she knelt on the bed, spreading them apart enough where Marianne felt shy about looking at her any harder, but any embarrassment she felt was alleviated immediately by the sensation of desperately wanting to fuck Hilda.

She didn't waste any time. Hilda already loved that about Marianne. Her actions always started out sloppily, as though her desperation and her longing were always factors that would initially win out in the beginning, but once she found her rhythm beyond the delirious obsession, it was indescribable. Marianne's fingers slipped inside, feeling the wetness that she'd already brought with her own tongue alone; and, slipping that tongue inside Hilda's mouth as they began to make out all over again, Marianne's fingers began to fuck the woman beneath her.

“Ah!” Hilda moaned, and Marianne kept a steady pace. She was fucking Hilda. Her fingertips were wet, and her arm was burning; clung to by the sensation of Hilda's bare thighs, she knew this was a memory she'd never be able to get back as perfect as it would be right now. Her fingers thrust inside her hard, and then soft; then slow, and then fast.

“No hickeys, okay?” Hilda whispered urgently, “Shamir would kill me."

Marianne, burying her face in Hilda's neck, let out a disappointed groan as she continued. Something about hearing Marianne's casual indignation made Hilda even hornier, and Marianne let out a gasp when Hilda grabbed the wrist that was already in between her legs.

“Fuck me harder!”

Marianne didn't need to be told twice.

The pace was now animalistic . Hilda couldn't stop enjoying the rhythmic motion, and Marianne couldn't stop her intensity. She fucked Hilda _hard;_ as though this was her own way of making Hilda understand the depth of her obsession. The lonely nights, the fantasies, the people she'd put up with just to be in line to hear Hilda's voice. The depth of her love. All of that had culminated into this one, irreplaceable night where Marianne von Edmund was in a hotel bed, fucking Hilda until she couldn't stand it any longer.

Hilda moaned and begged for more in Marianne's ear. Her hands scratched down the back of Marianne's alabaster skin, wrapping her wet thighs around Marianne's hips as she allowed herself to be fucked, and, as they kissed, Hilda bit Marianne's bottom lip with an affectionate desperation.

“Ugh...” Marianne moaned out, slowing her pace slightly in favor of kissing Hilda's lips again. And _again_. And then the kissing became more making out, before it all shifted back to just where it was before.

Marianne could feel Hilda was close. Her lower abdomen was tensing up against her own; and Marianne could feel Hilda's thighs were wet along the top, soaked from the sensation of her fingers thrusting in and out; and, as Hilda's grip tightened, Marianne knew she was about to come.

“C-Come on...” Marianne pleaded. “Please, Hilda...I need it...”

Hilda's back straightened beneath Marianne.

“You need it?”

“I do,” Marianne answered. “I need everything about you.”

“You need it? You _need_ me?” Hilda pleaded. “Tell me.”

“I need you.”

“Again.”

“I-I need you, Hilda...please...give me what I want...!”

With a loud scream and a thrust upwards of her hips against Marianne's body, Hilda screamed loudly; and came against her touch.

The scream brought with it an afterglow that neither woman had really thought about. The silence that followed was like a bell had rung out, and the aftershock of the noise was beginning to fade into a perfect stillness. It had cut through the hotel silence like a knife; and once the scream began to fade into the ambiance all over again, Hilda shuffled up the sheets back over them, pulled Marianne against her, and held her tightly against her body. 

Both women were panting into each other's neck for breath; clawing at each other's bodies limply. They felt more like long-lost lovers, laying like this, rather than a one-night stand with a fan that Hilda had thought was desperately attractive. Somehow, this felt... _right._ This felt meant to be. Something about this felt far more sentimental than Hilda could have ever really expected from a one-night stand, because to Marianne, everything Hilda did was already something to be treasured.

“Whew...” Hilda breathed out; tucking a strand of her pink hair behind her ear. Somewhere in the shuffle of it all, she'd lost the hair tie that held up her ponytail, and Marianne's soft blue hair had also been thoroughly messed up from Hilda's hands. Hilda chuckled to herself as Marianne raised her head to look up at the woman beneath her, and stroked her cheeks as they rolled onto their sides.

“Th..that...” Marianne began, still regaining her composure, and placed her head against the softness of the large pillow. “Wow...”

“Did you enjoy that?” Hilda asked with a cheeky smile. “I sure did.”

“I...” Marianne began, before buttoning her lip and cleverly concealing the blush that rest beneath her already red cheeks. “Um...”

“You're cute...” Hilda replied bluntly, before chuckling as Marianne buried her face in her hands. “Hey, I think it's far too late to start being embarrassed now, y'know!”

Marianne laughed behind her hands, and for a split second, it felt as though they'd always done this.

“S-Sorry...”

“No, don't be sorry. Just hold me for now, okay?”

Marianne blinked in surprise at the request, as Hilda rolled onto her side that faced away from Marianne. She patted the pillow.

“Huh?” Marianne spluttered in reply. 

“C'mon,” Hilda said, and although Marianne couldn't be sure, she thought Hilda actually sounded a little embarrassed. “Just - just hold me while we sleep. I'm exhausted!”

Marianne, a little disappointed to say the least that the night was already coming to an end, did exactly as she was asked. If this was the only time she'd get to spend with Hilda, wrapped up in a naked embrace like this, then she was going to damn well make it count.

A part of her wanted to cry. She'd just gotten so much ecstasy, so much of a fantasy fulfilled that she didn't want to go to sleep yet. There was no way she'd want to do a thing like that.

But her eyes were so heavy, too...and the bed was so comfortable...

With Hilda's perfume warmly snuggled up next to her, Marianne felt her eyelids beginning to close of their own volition; and before she realized it, she had drifted off into a dreamless sleep with Hilda Valentine Goneril wrapped up safely in her arms.

Upon her awakening, she found that Hilda was _not_ in her arms.

Shooting upright in bed, Marianne found that the hotel room was illuminated by the light of the summer's morning.

It was 6:20 – surely, Hilda couldn't have left that early...could she?

Pulling the sheet up around her chest, Marianne looked around awkwardly.

“U-Um..." Marianne began shyly. "Hilda...?”

“Oh! You're awake!”

With an immense sensation of shock followed by relief, Hilda re-emerged from the large bathroom. Marianne exhaled shakily, and Hilda chuckled as she walked back outside.

"Sorry, you were so sound asleep I didn't wanna bother you."

Marianne reflexively blushed. Hilda was wrapped up in a white towel around her body, and her cotton candy hair hung over her shoulders as she rubbed it with a separate towel. She'd obviously been in the shower.

“Wow,” Hilda continued as she properly re-emerged, throwing the towel for her hair over the chair behind her, and placed her hands on her hips. “I really _did_ leave a lot of hickeys on you, didn't I?”

“Y-You did?”

“Sure! Take a look.”

Hilda picked up a handheld mirror from the table with a chuckle, and handed it to Marianne.

“Ah!”

Her neck was littered in small, purple bruises from the woman at her side laughing to herself.

“I gotta say, I'm pretty proud of that.”

“Hilda...”

Marianne bit her lip. She could hardly believe that this was a question she was actually going to ask.

"Yeah?"

“...C-Can we do this again?”

Hilda's expression shifted into one that Marianne hated not being able to read. A pit of dread opened up in her stomach. She closed her eyes as the squeak of the mattress protested under Hilda's weight.

_Why did I ask that? Of course we wouldn't be able to do something like that again..._

_I'm just setting myself up for failure._

_I always do this._

_Why?_

“Marianne...” Hilda said with a sympathetic expression, and placed her hands on Marianne's legs as she sat. “Did I do something wrong?”

Marianne blinked in disbelief.

“W...What?! You?! No! Of course not!”

“Then why would you ask me if we could do this again?” Hilda asked in confusion, but with a teasing smile on her face. “I was under the impression that this was something you wanted to continue, to say the least. Right?”

Marianne's heart began to soar. Her cheeks felt warm with the cozy relief she allowed her heart to feel; her eyes smiling along with her lips in a tremble that she didn't know she could express. Her hands quickly clambered onto grabbing Hilda's own, shaking her head, and looking at her with a pleading expression.

“You didn't j-just think of me as a one night thing?”

“A one night stand? Oh, no...” Hilda replied with a laughter. “If you're gonna get all embroiled with somebody, might as well do it the real way.”

“And it doesn't bother you? That I'm a fan?”

Hilda chuckled, and leant in to Marianne's lips; pecking them lightly with her own. Marianne gasped.

“ _Bother_ me?” Hilda continued. “That's exactly what makes me so interested. What better partner for me than someone who will worship the very ground I walk on?”

And; as Hilda leant her body against Marianne's own back against the mattress, Marianne von Edmund wasn't exactly sure what her intense love for Hilda Valentine Goneril had quite gotten her into; but every single part of her was desperate beyond description to find out just what lay beneath the surface of the woman that had captured her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to follow me on twitter over [@gloomhoarder](http://www.twitter.com/gloomhoarder)! thank you! ♥


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